Down the Rabbit Hole
by SgtGinger
Summary: Follows the adventures of Commander Connor Shepard and fellow misfits on their journey through the stars. Warning: rated M for mature content, including drug and alcohol use, excessive violence and scenes of torture. OC's will be present.
1. Chapter 1

**This is my first posting for a Mass Effect related story in a while, but it's one I've been working on for roughly 3 years. So, feel free to read, review and share if you feel so inclined. I am not affiliated with or receive compensation from these stories from any of the respective properties. Please ask me if you want to use anything from this story, including characters or plot points.**

* * *

Time: 06:00 CEST

Date: February 1st, 2183.

Location: 145 KM southwest of Trondheim, Norway

* * *

Sergeant Finley hiked through the knee deep snow and fierce, biting wind on her way through the mountains of Norway. The cold seeped into her bones as even her Alliance issued parka and balaclava struggled to block the wind and sleet. With the snow creeping over the edges of her boots and sliding under her socks, the cold was quickly becoming a nuisance. The miserable weather combined with the rough terrain did not make for an easy hike; the sudden gust of wind that emptied the giant pine trees and their branches of all the accumulated snow on top of her head did not help. Much like the old cartoon vids of the late 20th and early 21st centuries, Finley stood there in a daze, comically shaking her head to free it of the excess snow.

 _Yes, welcome to Norway, home of a damn ridiculous amount of snow._

As she took a few seconds to adjust the hood of her parka, Sergeant Finley was shocked to hear a voice filter through the trees.

"Nice one, Sergeant. Don't move."

Finley froze, trying to determine the source of the voice. Scanning through the trees and snow around her, she could find nothing out of place. The wind and snow concealed most everything, even the crunch of her boots in the snow as she shifted.

"Don't. Move."

Annoyed at the mysterious voice, Finley replied with as much sarcasm as she could muster. "Well it would help if you told me why I'm not moving." She received her answer as, with a silence that would rival even her fellow snipers in Delta, a body dropped from the trees above into the snow next to her and a hand quickly gripped her left shoulder. Finley quickly spun around, readying herself against a potential attack when the same voice quietly assured her.

"Calm down, Sergeant. And stay still."

Quietly observing the man next to her, Finley realized she could make out very little detail. He was covered head to toe in a snow pattern ghillie suit, and wore a matching balaclava around his face. He stood around six feet tall, and Finley couldn't help but notice even through the gear that he was well muscled. Aside from that, the only detail she could make out were his eyes, staring straight ahead into the dense forest. Quickly, he took a step forward, and dug his hand into the snow, retrieving what appeared to be an … arrow?

It was at that moment she realized the man must have been hunting, and she had neatly stumbled into a prepared kill zone. The shuffling of the trees and sudden snarling sounds ahead of her confirmed that. Backing up, Finley took out her sidearm and aimed it at the trees, but not before the mystery man had already knocked the arrow on the bow he'd also fished out of the snow and taken a bead on whatever was in front of her. Quickly taking a breath and releasing it, she watched the arrow release from the string just as something large and fierce barreled out of the trees. Finley watched in a detached fascination as the arrow sprung forward, and slammed neatly into the head of the bear that had just charged out of the forest, and it slumped forward, skimming on the ice and snow until it slid to a stop in front of her.

"So … you were hunting. Bears. With a bow and arrow."

"Most efficient way to kill them silently. Besides, I like a challenge." She could briefly see his steel gray eyes lighten with unspoken laughter, then briefly return to their task as the man glided forward like a ghost and removed the arrow from the bear's skull.

"Well, you obviously recognized my uniform and rank. May I ask who you are?" Finley was trying to gather her wits but was understandably having trouble, given the bear that just attacked them.

"Sergeant, no one comes this way unless they live nearby or are looking for me. I'm assuming Captain Anderson sent you here?" His steely gaze fixated on her as he wiped off his arrow and placed it back in the quiver strung along his back. _Odd, I hadn't even noticed that was there before._ As he collapsed the bow and holstered it, he stopped and fixed her with a questioning look. _Damn, come on. Your an Alliance marine. From what little I've seen he's got to be it._

"Yes, he did. I'm looking for an Alliance marine, Commander Shepard. I'm assuming that's you?"

The Commander nodded, and proceeded to dig a harness and sled out of the snow beneath the tree to his right. "That's me. We can talk about whatever you're here for later. Help me harness this thing," he said as he proceeded to toss her a bundle of ropes. Shaking herself out of her confusion, Finley began quietly assisting him as she realized he had little else to say, and slowly began to prep the giant beast. After wrapping the bear in canvas and tying it to the sled, the Commander turned to face her.

"I've got to get this back to my cabin. You can stay with me or meet me there." He paused, quickly scanning her omni tool with his own, and passed her a set of coordinates. "It's a relatively easy hike. Just head northwest and take the road north around the mountain. You'll be there soon enough … unless you're planning on hiking with me. Might be a few hours."

"Wait … you mean you're going to drag that thing there? It has to weigh at least 500 kg!"

"And?" Shepard pulled his mask down and stared.

"And I'm fairly certain even a fire team couldn't drag that thing the whole way there." Finley managed a shaky laugh, pointing at the bear on the sled. "Come on, you can't really expect me to believe you'll haul that thing all the way, can you?"

The slight curve of his lips, though overshadowed by his definitely non-regulation length beard, gave her the impression he enjoyed the game.

"You have a shuttle?" She nodded. "Alright then, I'll make you a deal. You get there before me, and I'll cook you up something."

The grin on his face made even Finley cautious, but then again, he was dragging a literal bear on a sled through rough terrain in knee high snow. Finley felt her nearly frozen face smile back. "Alright, and what do you get if you beat me?"

A rough chuckle escaped his throat as Shepard strapped the ropes around his shoulders and waist, and tugged the mask back up again. "Oh, you'll buy me a drink when we get back to base."

* * *

Nearly three infuriating hours later, Sergeant Finley found herself walking up the well hidden road to a small but serviceable cabin huddled against the mountain. The cabin itself was disguised as nothing more than an unassuming copse of pine trees, and yet despite the obscene amount of trouble she'd had finding it, Finley found the walk up the cabin rather calming.

After flying around the target coordinates nearly four times after leaving Shepard to his bear, she'd quickly realized why he'd made the bet: he knew he'd win. The terrain was rough and concealed, with towering pines and glistening streams covered by the shadows of the mountains. Between the wind and the snow fall, it had been impossible to find any tracks in the snow, and no thermals ever showed up on the scanners, aside from local wildlife. After finally giving up on locating the cabin from the sky, Finley had landed as close to the coordinates as she could, and searched on foot.

That was two hours into the search.

After an embarrassing number of circles and misroutes, she'd finally found the hidden entrance to the road behind some boulders. Navigating through the entrance, Finley had taken a minute to admire the scenery around her. Opening past the boulders, the road led down a secluded opening in the forest. The pines towered over her, and the wind was all but erased, as nothing more than a slight breeze invaded the trees. The sunlight glistened on the ground, and even the beaten and dirty road held gleaming ponds of crystal clear water.

Finley found herself admiring the view, and feeling quite relaxed. Until she heard the laughter coming from the front door.

"Got a bit lost there, Sergeant?" Shepard descended the stairs, a rough cloth in one hand and an old fashioned wood handled axe in the other.

Finley started, surprised to hear his voice. She also could not help her eyes lingering on him slightly longer than usual as he walked towards her. Standing at exactly six feet tall, his short black hair swept back - though still longer than regs allowed, not that she would say anything - and his beard had been cleanly trimmed. Despite the chill, he sported a worn in pair of denim jeans, plain boots, and a thick, if unbuttoned, flannel shirt. The laughter she'd heard was evident in his expression.

"Okay, how did you do it?"

"Oh don't fret, Sergeant, I only got back half an hour ago. You barely beat me."

"You have a game trail, don't you?" Finley knew it had to be the answer, because there was no way he really dragged a 500 kg bear across snowy, rocky terrain by himself without having a shortcut.

Shepard laughed. "You had to expect it, Sergeant."

As annoyed as Finley was, she couldn't help a slight chuckle escape her lips. Despite the already long detour, she was willing to wait it out. This was _the_ Commander Shepard, after all, and he wasn't exactly fitting the profile she'd been given. He was the poster boy for the Alliance Military's Special Forces recruitment program, and a polarizing figure in the Alliance himself. A career soldier and a lethal operative, he'd lead several teams through intense missions, and always come out the other side with all - or at least most - of the men and women serving under him. He was given the missions that even most other Delta operators would turn down, and inevitably walked out the other side with few more kills and couple of good stories to share. The man was, plainly put, a legend.

Though from what she'd heard, he hated his own mythos within the rank and file - and the attention it brought him. Hence, his reputation as a bit of a loner. Given the fact that even with a set of coordinates and a multifunction GPS it took her three hours to find his house, she could agree.

They continued talking, if you could call it talking, for another hour while he chopped the firewood. Really, she asked more questions than he had answers, and frequently she found herself on the receiving end of nothing more than a grunt or dismissive comment. Though there were the rare occasions he cracked a joke or gave her even a little insight into his less-classified missions, she was left with the feeling that he learned more from her than she did.

After that hour, Shepard finished up and began oiling the axe head. "So, I'll give you props Sergeant, you've been far more patient than I expected. Alright, let's head inside and you can give me the mission brief."

 _Well,_ Finley mused as she walked in the door to the cabin behind Shepard, _this ought to be good._


	2. Chapter 2

**Sorry for the delay, meant to get this up sooner. This chapter will be a bit longer, and there are a few AU elements in this story, so be warned. Also, there will be occasional brief arcs like this, where our interaction with Shepard is through another character. So enjoy Finley's POV and have fun!**

* * *

 **Time: 10:00 CEST**

 **Date: February 1st, 2183.**

 **Location: 142 KM southwest of Trondheim, Norway. Shepard's Cabin.**

Perplexed but amused, Finley sat at the small dining table, enjoying a rather hearty breakfast cooked for her by another guest in Shepard's home. The table had been hand carved from what looked like the pines in the nearby forest, and had what appeared to be little messages and notes written in a variety of languages, along with a mixture of other symbols and images Finley could not understand - though she could tell a few phrases were written in Russian. The cabin itself was rather sparse, and almost truly spartan in appearance, though there were a few concessions to comfort and "homey" appeal scattered throughout. Upon walking in, she'd been greeted with a soft but pleasant mixture of scents. Pine and cherry woods mixed with cigar smoke and the freshly ground coffee, yet contained a light hint of the burning smell typical to a biotic discharge. The source of these conflicting scents had become quickly evident as she entered the front door, chatting with Shepard, and had almost run into her.

"Her" being a quiet, but intense young woman named Anya.

Anya was, apparently, a local girl who's parents had asked Shepard to provide biotic training, as she was too young to join the Alliance and there were no formal schools nearby. As odd as it might have been, being so far away from even a moderately sized town did limit options. And Finley had no problem believing that he was her tutor, if the occasional biotic field moving pots and tins around the room was any indication.

Finley quietly observed the pair interacting as she enjoyed her breakfast. While Shepard was definitely a quiet teacher, he made observations every once in a while. While Finley had little experience with biotic training programs, she doubted this was normally how they were taught. She watched as the both the girl and Shepard practiced simple movements, trying to minimize the amount of movement needed, while turning simple tasks into a lesson. He watched as she would drag her coffee mug through the air, or hovered a pot in the air just low enough over the oven to keep it warm, and even opened drawers and removed utensils. Finley had seen biotics used in firefights, but this was a whole new kind of exposure, which had a subtle grace and fluidity to them.

It was beautiful.

Frankly, she was a little jealous.

As she watched the pair, she remarked on their appearance. She couldn't help it, as they were an intriguing pair. Shepard had already surprised her again, as upon entering the house he had washed the black dye out of his hair and beard, leaving it a dark red, and removed the gray contacts from his eyes, leaving her shocked to see an icy blue that were both cold and crinkled with laughter. Still wearing the old jeans, he had changed to a simple black shirt and wore a loose wool beanie. This was the first time she'd seen his arms, and was pleasantly surprised to see that both arms were covered in scars and tattoos, each one fascinating in it's own right.

And Anya, though apparently only fifteen, was certainly coming into her own. She possessed a lean and athletic body, and her dirty blonde hair was tied back in a loose ponytail, though rebelliously streaked with blue. A few delicate scars crossed her upper arms, and looked like nothing more than the snap of a bowstring. Like Shepard, she was dressed in light clothing, wearing skin tight black leggings, running shoes, and a gray tank top. Her arms were wreathed in blue, and the slight sheen of perspiration glistened on her face as she focused on moving the objects around.

"Remember, the more you change up your muscle movements, the harder it will be, but the more adaptable you'll become. The more adaptable you are, the easier you can pick up new techniques and the faster your ability will grow." Shepard walked back to the kitchen near the table, grabbing some coffee before sitting down next to Finley.

"So, anything in particular you liked watching?" He grinned, and she knew he'd been looking back and forth between them the whole time.

"Don't get anything in your head, Commander. Just observing, that's all." She smiled back, knowing he would probably not let it go.

"Well Sergeant, now that I've taken up most of your morning, how about we get to this data Anderson sent you all the way the hell out here to deliver."

Finley nodded, opening her omni tool to the message Anderson had sent her to deliver. _He really did send me all the way out the middle of nowhere for something he could have emailed. It's either way too important to send over even an encrypted channel, or he really doesn't want Delta team hanging around Arcturus too much._

Taking a cigar out of his pocket and lighting it, Shepard demonstrated his own biotics as he casually motioned with his index and forefingers, and used it to open the front door, allowing a gentle and cool breeze to enter the already smoky room. That it was the only door or window in the place wasn't quite as helpful.

As he was reading, Finley's eyes drifted towards the study in the back corner. Anya had taken a respite from her training, and was currently draped across the chair like a cat, reading. Focusing on the bookshelf inside the door, Finley was surprised to see the rare sight that beheld her. Two bookshelves, stacked floor to ceiling with real, paper books. Wandering over, she found herself joining Anya in the study and marveled over the books she found there: Sun Tzu's _Art of War, Meditations_ by Marcus Aurelius _,_ Leo Tolstoy's _Anna Karenina, The Analects_ from Confucius _,_ Thomas Hobbes' _Leviathan,_ Friedrich Nietzsche's _Beyond Good and Evil,_ Machiavelli's _The Prince,_ and even what looked to be an ancient copy of Plato's _Republic._ She even saw older copies of the _Quran_ and the _Torah._ She was, to be frank, blown away by what she saw in here. Obtaining books like these, even on omni tools, was difficult given their age. Paper copies were almost unheard of, and see all these in one place was amazing. Glancing back, she noticed Shepard had stopped smoking his cigar, and was fully engrossed in the message from Anderson. Carefully picking up _Meditations,_ Finley sat herself on the couch opposite Anya and began reading, immersing herself in the book. Only a few minutes later, as she looked back to Shepard, she noticed Anya was observing her as well. Their eyes met briefly, though in that short time Finley noticed a flash of anger, though it seemed to be quickly obscured a sense of amusement. Not knowing quite what to say, Finley cleared her throat quietly.

"Something wrong, Anya?"

The girl put her book down and stared. "You couldn't even give him the three days he had left on leave? Really? Like he doesn't already do enough for the Alliance."

Finley re-evaluated her initial judgement of the girl. While she certainly seemed protective of Shepard, it was odd given the "teacher/student" story they'd given her earlier. The anger definitely was due to something else.

"I don't know what's in that message, but … I'm sorry. I know I'm not the one who made that decision, if that's even what it's about."

Anya snorted. "Oh I know you had nothing to do with it. I get that. Doesn't mean I can't be upset about it."

Finley was really questioning the story they'd given her now. Even if he was an amazing tutor, she doubted this reaction would come from any regular student. _I didn't see anything in his file about family … maybe a friend's daughter? Maybe a niece or a sister?_

"I know, and you have every right to be upset. So does he. But I'm fairly certain he'll be allowed to take the rest of his leave first." _I hope._

"If you're going to try to cheer me up, at least have the courtesy to use some different platitudes." Her slight but derisive sneer was painful but understandable. Though Shepard did not appear to agree.

"Anya! That's enough." Shepard had apparently been listening the entire time, as he was still at the table, but now staring directly at the pair. He didn't seem angry, though stern was certainly on the menu.

"But she's …"

"Outside. Now."

Finley had been awkwardly observing the exchange, but this was unfair. "Shepard, she's just upset, it's fine!"

It was then that the coldness in his eyes came back, and Finley felt the full brunt of it. "Sergeant, this is not a conversation for you. Leave it be."

Both Shepard and Anya took that moment to storm out of the cabin, though it may have implied more anger than there was. To Finley, their expressions told it all, even if their words implied otherwise. Still, she could not help but feel sorry for the young girl. It wasn't fair to someone like that to rip away what she assumed was probably the only major father figure in her life, then have that same figure yell at her when she only wanted them to stay home a little longer. _Though I'm probably just over thinking this. I'm looking for what I want to be there, not what is there._

Not wanting to outstay her welcome, Finley placed the books back on the shelf, and began cleaning her dishes, admiring the carvings she saw. But then her concern for both Shepard and Anya was relieved as they walked in the door, both quiet yet seeming content. Were it not for the small smile on Anya's face, she would have began looking for bruises. Not that she immediately thought of Shepard as an abuser, but the young woman had been clearly distressed and she could not help wanting to come to her rescue. The smiles on their respective faces dismissed that concern, and now she was left with nothing more than an intense curiosity.

Anya left the two alone as she walked up the stairs to what Finley assumed was a second floor, though she had no idea how it fit in the small cabin, though she'd been surprised already. Shepard motioned for her to follow into the study, and as they both sat down he handed her a glass with what appeared to be a smooth, golden scotch, neat rather than on the rocks. _Well he knows his scotch, I'll give him that._

"I'm sorry you saw that, Sergeant. I know you probably have questions, so I'll answer as best I can." Shepard leaned slightly forward as he sat down, a small grimace etched on his face, and an apologetic look on his face. "First, you should know that I take my duty as her teacher very seriously, and I would never hurt her. Anya is just young, and so far away from a normal city that it's been hard for her to make friends her. She's … a bit attached because of it."

Despite her best misgivings, Finley could not help her mind being put to ease. _For her sake I hope he's telling the truth._ "It's alright, I know I interrupted. And while I don't know what's in the message, I'm guessing you'd have to miss out on the rest of your leave?"

Shepard sighed. "Yeah, unfortunately this isn't something I can give to another operative. I hate leaving her early like this, but she has a few more years left before she can enlist anyways. It's not like I won't be back before that. But this is something I have to do."

Finley could see the frustration in his eyes as he rubbed a hand through his hair. He looked exhausted, though given his earlier hunt and hike through the woods hauling a bear it could be easily explained. But this looked like more than physical exhaustion. She could tell even from a brief look it was more than that. Taking a minute to gather herself, she carefully put her hand on his.

"I know this is tough, and I'm sorry I have to be the messenger here. Especially when you still have shore leave."

Shepard quietly laughed. "It's not the leave, Sergeant. I still have a few days left and even Anderson wouldn't dare end it early. It's just … going to make the next few days a bit more complicated than I would like."

"Well I don't want to make this more difficult on you, and I should probably report in soon. But … I want to say thank you. For the whole bear thing this morning. And for the food." As she rose and walked toward the door, she turned back, smiling, hoping he would see it.

"And Shepard … good luck."

He smiled back. "You too."

* * *

 **10 hours ago**

 **Alliance Diplomatic Shuttle, Arcturus Stream, 1 AU from Arcturus Station**

The door to the conference room slid open quietly, as the man they were both waiting on entered. Sitting down on opposite sides were Captain David Anderson, and Admiral Steven Hackett, two of the most respected and powerful men in the Alliance military. Both wearing an expression of long suffering annoyance on their faces, they stood and saluted as Ambassador Donnel Udina entered the room. He at least had the grace to acknowledge their frustration as he made his way to his seat, an apologetic look that didn't quite reach his eyes, though it was more than they normally received.

"Apologies for the delay, gentleman. Council business."

Despite his normally iron clad composure, even Anderson had to grin a little as a slight sigh escaped Hackett's lips.

"Yes, well, let's get this underway."

"Thank you. As you both know, we have been pushing for more influence in galactic politics for a long time, and getting ourselves a human Spectre is the first step towards that goal. We're here tonight to make that goal a reality."

Anderson cleared his throat, turning to Udina. "I know we need this, but is it really necessary for all this cloak and dagger bullshit? There's only two names on this list that require this level of discretion and quite frankly I wouldn't put either of them in this position."

Hackett nodded, "I agree. I know we need this Udina, but is calling us out to this shuttle away from Arcturus under guard really necessary?"

Udina scowled, returning to his normal expression only after sighing. "Yes, I realize dragging you both out here has inconvenienced you, but there's been an addition to the list. One that requires this level of security. One that I think you might both agree on."

A sinking feeling entered Anderson's chest, and it seemed Hackett had the same reaction given his expression. "Who did you have in mind?"

"Lt. Commander Shepard."

Both men ran a hand over their face and slumped in their chairs.

Seeing their reactions, Udina lowered himself into his chair and faced them both. "I know you both have reservations about picking Shepard, but overall he's the best choice we have."

Hackett shared a look with Anderson, one full of reservation. "Udina, I realize you want someone who's going to embody the best of humanity, but is Shepard really who you want to go with? He's certainly one of our best marines, I won't argue that, but he's also a lone wolf. Eighty percent of his operations are completed solo, and he hasn't commanded any teams since Torfan. There's a reason a lot of marines call him the Butcher …"

Anderson stepped in. "Besides, he's got a long record of authority issues, and I've never seen another soldier who refuses to file his after action reports as stridently as Shepard. Plus, while the humor in the situation wouldn't be lost on me, do you really want to deal with someone who will probably call the Council members," Anderson cleared his throat quickly, "and I quote, 'a waste of organic life more useless than a pile of shit covering a rock?'"

Udina growled under his breath. "I admit, from what I've heard I'm not too keen on his possible interactions with the Council or media, but we'll have to put that aside for now."

Resigned to the likelihood of Shepard being chosen as a Spectre regardless of what they said, both Hackett and Anderson motioned for Udina to hurry up.

"Alright, let's just go over the basics for now, and see where we land. Shepard's earthborn, but I couldn't locate any record of his family. Orphaned?"

Doing his best to keep a straight face, Anderson continued. "Yes, born in Tokyo, but orphaned shortly after. Spent most of his early life in Russia, as far as we can tell, but there's no concrete records that can be found. All I know is he showed up one day at a recruiting center in Vancouver and enlisted."

"Since then, he's consistently been one of the best marines and intelligence operators we've ever had. Finished top of his class in Basic and OCS, served one tour in the Terminus where he earned the Medal of Valor … twice. Qualified for the N school, and began training. Six months later he's top of his class, earning the N7 commendation, and breaking all my damn records."

Hackett laughed, "still sore about that, Anderson? It's been years, let it go."

Anderson grumbled to himself, but continued. "Of course, we all know what happened at Akuze. Shepard commanded a small fire team in response to the loss of the colonial unit. Thresher Maws attacked and the rest of the team was lost. Shepard received multiple intensive injuries in the attempt to rescue the other marines, and was awarded the Medal of Honor for his efforts. That's pretty much when the whole 'lone wolf' attitude started."

Udina followed along, nodding as Hackett continued. "At the time, I ordered him to report for psych evaluations. Shepard passed, but with the understanding from his psychiatrist that his mental state was bordering the clinical sociopathic scale. However, given what the psychiatrist said about some of the details revealed about his childhood, it was largely ignored. Though Shepard was considered to have an 'unhealthy clinical detachment from the consequences of his actions combined with a streak of amorality.' Alliance Intelligence picked him up afterwards, and he's been running undercover and dark ops pretty much ever since, only working with other N7 operators occasionally. The only exception was after the attacks from Batarian extremists, and Shepard's role in the Alliance strike on Torfan."

Udina began pouring all three a glass of whisky that had been oh-so-cleverly hidden under the table, as both Anderson and Hackett saw the slight shudder that came across him. "We saw the reports. Half of his team, dead. Shepard captured. Surrendering Batarians murdered in retaliation."

Hackett answered, sparing Anderson from the retelling. "After the first few scouting insertions, Shepard went in on his own against orders to plant explosives. He was captured by a patrol and tortured for three days. Two thirds of the squadron were killed in action during both their rescue attempt and following attacks. Shepard personally executed every Batarian in the complex, including surrendering innocents. Psych evals after the mission indicated his mental state was well beyond typical functioning sociopathic limits, but it was again dismissed given the trauma he endured."

Anderson ended with one the only positive evidence he could. "At least we can be guaranteed of a few things. First, he'll never be taken for ignorant; the man fluently speaks at least four human dialects that I know of, plus at least one Asari dialect and apparently can speak fluent Turian. He's demonstrated excellent piloting skills, aced his demolitions and medical training courses, and has shown time and time again his grasp of battlefield tactics outstrips even some of our best strategists.

"Second, he's never shown an ounce of xenophobia, despite his experiences on Torfan. He's apparently spent a fair amount of time studying the ancient philosophies of various species, and he seems to have a penchant for making drinking buddies out of Krogan mercenaries. At least if we have to choose him, he won't embarrass us … much."

All three men were quiet for a time, each reflecting over the choice and sipping their whisky. Anderson knew Shepard was the right man for the job, but … he couldn't bring himself to make the recommendation. With everything Shepard had been through, it just wouldn't be fair to him, despite the need. In all fairness, the caution over exposing him to the Council and media was well founded, but Anderson knew there was no chance of riding that out to keep Shepard from the Spectre posting. For his own sake though, and because Shepard was probably the only one he would trust in the end to submit for Spectre consideration. He knew Shepard would never forgive him for this, but he had to do it.

"Alright gentleman, are we agreed?" Udina looked to each of them, raising his glass.

Hackett and Anderson shared a tentative look, but raised theirs all the same. "Agreed."

"I'll make the call. Goodnight, gentleman."


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: So sorry for the delay! Been really busy with work and dealing with writer's block. This is the last part of FInley's story ... for now. Next updates will be coming in a while, with a new set of characters introducing us to Shepard a bit more.**

* * *

 **Time: 08:00 CEST**

 **Date: February 4th, 2183**

 **Location: Alliance HQ, Oslo, Norway**

Sergeant Finley sat atop the barstool nursing away the raging headache threatening to split her head open with the glass in front of her. Sipping vodka this early might have been a bit against regulations, but if it made the room stop spinning she didn't rightly care. And while she shouldn't necessarily have been allowed in the officer's lounge, the few there present didn't seem overly concerned by her presence. The headache was certainly making it difficult to be aware of her surroundings, meaning despite her well honed instincts, Finley still managed to be surprised when someone sat himself on the stool next to her, sliding a glass full of a strange green liquid over.

"I guarantee this will help more than any cocktail, Sergeant."

With a slight shock, Finley realized the body next to her was Commander Shepard, kitted out in full armor with a duffle slung over his right shoulder. Taking a split second to observe him, she realized she'd never actually seen his armor or weapons the last time, except for the bow. She had to admit, he certainly came prepared. A full set of hardened battle armor, far heavier than she'd expected a graduate of the Sentinel program to use, was kitted with an additional hardline GPS unit on his right gauntlet, an extra casing for ammunition blocks on his right bicep plate, two combat knives strapped to the chest plate and a grenade belt slung around the waist.

The contents of the glass, however, were a little less clear. A murky green goo that contained what looked like vomit swirled around the glass. But so far, Shepard hadn't lied to her yet. And if it helped ...

"Ugh! I don't even care what's in there, I'm drinking it."

Tipping the glass back, Finley prepared herself for the taste, but was pleasantly surprised when the green goop - for lack of a better word - went down and tasted like nothing more than a milkshake. Mere moments later, she could begin to feel the effects of whatever magic was in there began to quickly suppress her headache.

"Shit … what's in this?"

Chuckling, Shepard began to tick off ingredients: "Whey protein, lingonberry extract, raudŕ tea leaves, juniper extract, blueberry juice and spinach."

Sputtering on the last remnants of her drink, Finley nearly choked.

"Well … fuck. It might look nasty but it works, I'll give you that."

Shepard chuckled a bit. "Yeah, I learned that from an old friend during our deployments. Helps for biotics like me … and you."

With only a sidelong glance, Finley saw his gaze boring into her. Sighing, she turned to face him. "Look, it's not a big deal. I was never strong enough to rate an investment by the Alliance, so when I enlisted they gave me a choice. I chose the Recon teams. I'm a far better sniper than biotic."

A slight grin crossed Shepard's features. "I'm not judging, Sergeant. Just offering a little help if you want to improve abilities. Apparently, I'm a good teacher."

Finley smiled, remembering Anya. She was still intensely curious about the girl and her relationship to Shepard, but she could put it aside for now.

Finley leaned in, a mischievous look on her face. "Speaking of biotics, I noticed you weren't using an amp. That was pretty impressive."

Shepard turned back and focused on the drink that had materialized in front of him. _That bartender was sharp._

"My biotics didn't manifest until after my parents died, and I couldn't afford it living on the streets, so I had to learn the hard way. No muscular triggers to learn, so I used my abilities for everyday tasks: opening doors, playing dice, sparking fires … That sort of thing."

Finley's eyes held a look of curiosity, her lips pursing in a tiny frown as she ran her left hand through the loose strands of hair over her ears. "I've heard more than the basic reports about your childhood, Shepard. For what it's worth, I'm sorry."

A shadow passed over his face, brief but noticeable. "Trust me, if you knew even an ounce of the truth, you'd think differently."

Finley's eyes narrowed slightly, but she turned away and rose from her seat as a sigh escaped her lips, straightening until she could look him in the eyes. "Shepard, a lot of us know your reputation. Pretty hard to escape hearing about Akuze and Torfan during boot camp. But despite what you might think, a lot of us enlisted because of what you did."

As she turned and walked to the doors, Finley glanced over her shoulder at the man, still nursing his drink, his left hand scratching his beard.

 _Some of us even wanted to be you._


End file.
